


The Horsemen VS Christmas Celebrations

by Granddaughter_Ogg



Category: Darksiders (Video Games)
Genre: Christmas Fluff, Other, Team as Family, the message is LOVE, tis the season
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-24
Updated: 2019-12-24
Packaged: 2021-02-26 05:01:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 582
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21927862
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Granddaughter_Ogg/pseuds/Granddaughter_Ogg
Summary: This is not a story. Just a fluffy, cosy Christmas headcanon.If by any chance you'll feel sad and alone  - literally or figuratively - on Christmas Eve, please try to remember that the Nephilim are always there for you, okay?
Relationships: Death (Darksiders)/Reader, Fury (Darksiders)/Reader, Strife (Darksiders)/Reader, War (Darksiders)/Reader
Comments: 3
Kudos: 50





	The Horsemen VS Christmas Celebrations

**Fury** rolls her eyes hard and snorts a lot when you try to explain. Those humans and the utter wackiness of their customs. A tree inside a room? Covered in little lights and tinsel? What kind of tacky, glitzy nonsense is that? Words of disdain die on her lips when War barrels in with an absolute unit of a spruce, held nonchalantly over his shoulder - and the whole house starts to smell like a fairy tale. She’ll emerge again when you’ll be dressing the tree, her eyes big and fixated like a cat’s.

Speaking of **War**. Of course he’ll celebrate with you. Whatever it is that you feel like celebrating. This silver-haired giant loves you, remember? War is not big on this whole…theological background of the event (to be honest, neither are you), but the part about setting a table next to the hearth, feasting and being merry is an idea very much after his own heart. And exchanging gifts! He won’t admit it, not straight up, but the Red Rider is secretly giddy at the thought of receiving them. It’s been some time since anyone gave him a gift. 

As for the tree... it didn’t have to be so fucking HUMONGOUS. But first, this house was built with Nephilim proportions in mind, and second, War is an avid subscriber to the “bigger is always better” school of thought. Don’t ask.

 **Strife** is as much of a child at heart as you are. Well, not entirely. But he did manage to preserve his kid-like sense of wonder somehow, so you don’t have to try hard to make him participate. (Even if he did ask: “Who the fuck was this Jesus Christ? Never heard of the guy!”)

He’ll be the most visibly enthusiastic about this whole shebang: the dressing of the tree (he’ll get himself entangled in tinsel in no time), the cooking (he’s abysmal with it, but can be used for menial tasks like grating orange zest or whatever); the holiday songs (he’ll put them loud-ass speakers to use, making Death lose his shit over hearing _Last Christmas_ for the hundredth time in a row.) Don’t tell him about the mistletoe. Or _do_ tell him about the mistletoe - and watch how he brandishes it and chases flustered War around.

Strife is such a whirlwind of enthusiasm and questionable ideas that sometimes you’ll wish he’d lose interest - and let the rest of you prepare stuff in peace. On the other side, he’s the one who’ll initiate a snowball fight in the garden after a long day full of hard work. It’s been _ages_ since you’ve been in a snowball fight.

 **Death** will acknowledge that you want to have a proper Christmas with the four of them. He’ll give out his longest sigh, his wry, yet tender chuckle (you know which one), shaking his head at the superfluity of it all. And then he’ll comply. With the cooking (he seldom eats, but he can chop stuff up into perfect little chunks at a dizzying pace), with the gifts, with everything. He’ll be as silent and efficient about it as they come, too. Long lost are the times when the Pale Rider would actually pour his heart into celebrating…anything, really. He’s pretty much immune to the festive magic. But all this wonderful excess, this happy hubbub makes your eyes glint and your cheeks flush with anticipation. And that’s what matters.

Because he loves you. This old sourpuss loves you like you wouldn’t believe.


End file.
